


The Player

by stargatefan_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-17
Updated: 2005-09-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 21:11:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10344651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stargatefan_archivist/pseuds/stargatefan_archivist
Summary: SPOILERS: None really, anytime before Heroes Pt.2SUMMARY: Ever think about how Daniel always seems to get his way? I did. Now I kinow why.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Yuma, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Stargatefan.com](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Stargatefan.com). To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [StargateFan Archive Collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/StargateFan_Archive_Collection).

Stargate SG-1 | Missing Scene Fanfiction | The Player

##  The Player

##### Written by SuzeQ  
Comments? Write to us at bettycolvin@hotmail.com

  * SPOILERS : None really, anytime before Heroes Pt.2
  * SUMMARY : Ever think about how Daniel always seems to get his way? I did. Now I kinow why.
  * PG [M] [1st]



* * *

I realize I’m in trouble as soon as I open my eyes. I’m burning up, and no one’s pointing a ribbon device at my head. So, this is a naturally occurring fever. Or maybe unnatural. Whatever, it’s all me, and it’s not good.

I stumble to the refrigerator where I down half a bottle of ice cold water. Probably not the smartest move in the world, but no one’s here to tell me I shouldn’t. Still stumbling, I find my way to the bathroom and fumble for some Tylenol. Unfortunately, in order to do that, I have to turn on the light. The face I glimpse in the mirror looks like the lead actor in one of those zombie movies that fascinate Teal’c. Groaning, I pee, since I’m there anyway, wet a washcloth and ease my way back to bed.

Where I find that I’m now cold. So I rummage around in the closet and pull out a thick quilt. Jack said it was a Grandma quilt. Since I never knew either of my grandmothers (they were both gone by the time I made my spectacularly early appearance into the world one hot Cairo afternoon), I only have Jack’s word on that. But someone’s grandma, Grandma O’Neill actually, stitched this quilt. Somewhere in our convoluted history, I ended up with the quilt she had made for her rambunctious grandson, Jonathan. He hates for me to call him that, and I only do so when I really want to blow him out of the water. Which is surprisingly often.

Anyway, I lay there, forehead covered with the cool cloth, shivering for about an hour; finally realizing; it’s not helping. If I try to hold out the four hours till daybreak, I‘m probably not going to be conscious, which would then entail someone, probably Jack, busting in my door and hauling my ass to the infirmary. Since I’m awake anyway, and it is **my** ass, I decide to save him the trip.

So I drag myself to the shower. Because I know once Janet gets hold of me, the only cleanliness I will find will be at the receiving end of a sponge bath, carried out by some nurse with a sweet smile, some of which are actually genuine and some of which are just the putting-up-with-the-patient types. I dress and feed my fish; God knows when I’ll be seeing those guys again. 

On my way to the mountain, I stop for a very large cup of coffee, something else that I know will be a distant memory in the very near future. I make small talk with the guard as I sign in; they are well used to my odd comings and goings. Mostly comings, cause I don’t seem to go as much as I come. Go figure.

Then I make my way to the infirmary, where Nancy, one of my favorite nurses greets me with a frown.

"Dr. Jackson, what’s wrong?" I don’t figure she needs to ask, one look at my pasty face tells the tale.

I try out my mega-watt smile on her, the one I keep for these occasions. I had perfected the look as a precocious, but angelic looking four year-old; it wasn’t hard at all, what with the flyaway streaky blonde hair and the big blue eyes highlighted by tiny silver frames. It worked with an almost one hundred percent average with one Claire Jackson, especially when accompanied by my bony little body pressed against her; I had varying degrees of success with Dad.

Nancy, however, puddled right there on the infirmary floor. Maybe it’s a woman thing. And maybe that’s why I like her.

She handed me a set of scrubs and mumbled something about waking Dr. Fraiser.

"Oh, please don’t." I gave her the half-smile this time, and top it off with the big blue eyes. "I’m not that sick, I just thought I should come in. As a precaution." 

She sighed. "Change into these and I’ll check your temp." She pulled the curtain around my usual bed. This is like checking into the Marriott; they know just how I like things here. I quickly changed and put my clothes in their usual little bag, set my boots beside them and crawled under the sheets.

Nancy came bustling back in and stuck the instrument in my ear. Do they call them thermometers if they don’t stick them in your mouth? Or, God forbid the other end? Which I have had and didn’t enjoy in the least. 

I had kept my glasses on, mainly to gauge her reaction. She frowned, not a good sign. "Your temperature’s a bit high. I’ll have to wake Dr. Fraiser, I’m sorry, Daniel." Oh, that’s bad, she’s calling me Daniel. Means I’m in for it when Janet gets here.

I lay back and wait for the big gun to arrive. Well, she’s actually more of a Saturday night special, but, despite her size, she packs a mighty big punch. Which I am treated to in a very few minutes.

"Daniel, what’s wrong?" She snaps my chart open. My medical file must be the size of "War and Peace" by now.

I sigh and start listing my symptoms. Headache, body aches, dry mouth, fever, nausea.

"What have you taken?"

"Tylenol, a couple of them, about an hour or so ago." I’m keeping the smile in reserve; my success rate with Janet is a depressing twenty five percent. But I like a challenge, so I’m working on improving my odds; I believe it’s merely a matter of timing.

"Okay, let’s start an IV.."

I interrupt her. "Can I go to the bathroom before you hook me up?" I peep at her; she’s not smiling, so I mutter softly, "I had a coffee on the way here."

We both realize, almost simultaneously, that might have skewed my temperature reading. I let the desperation show, hoping this doesn’t mean the you-know-what thermometer. Oh, no, she’s still frowning. "Nancy, take Dr. Jackson to the bathroom. And stay with him." Oh, that’s cold, calling me Dr. Jackson **and** making me take a witness. She must really be ticked. So I have to suffer Nancy holding my arm as I trudge to the bathroom, which isn’t such a bad idea, cause I’m getting kind of wobbly. Nancy takes pity on me and turns her back while I pee and wash my hands.

"Thanks." I whisper to her as she shuffles me back to bed.

She melts again. Wish Janet were this easy. So, Nancy tucks me in and starts the IV and all that stuff, which I could probably do myself, I’ve been on the receiving end so many times.

"How long have you been sick?" Janet’s in military doctor overdrive mode. Things are not looking good for me.

"A couple of…" I start to lie to her, but I realize if I want to get though my next physical reasonably intact, it’s confession time. "Days."

"Daniel!" The exasperation could be evident to a four-year old. So, in serious desperation, I use the little kid smile, flutter the lashes, which isn’t really hard cause they seem to be heading south all on their own. Damn, what do they put in these IVs?

And, surprise, surprise, she melts. "Daniel," her voice softens as she tucks the covers up under my chin, brushes my hair back from my sweaty forehead. "What am I going to do with you?" Then she toughens up. "When you’re better, I can see that we will have to have a long, boring review of proper medical procedures."

"I don’t think it’s job related, Janet. I felt fine when I came back from PX-7908."

She sighs again. "Then, I’m afraid this may be my fault."

"Huh?"

"You did come over and help Cassie with her French homework, and the flu is going around her school and it looks like you got it. And, knowing you,"

"I’ve got it bad." I finished her sentence for her.

"You know, if you took better care of yourself. Got more rest, ate more sensibly, cut down on the caffeine." I winced at that. I could eat salads from now till Ba’al takes over the world, but I couldn’t, absolutely wouldn’t, give up the coffee. But I was smart enough not to tell her that.

"Thanks, Dr. Fraiser." I mumble, trying to make a joke.

"Good night, Dr. Jackson." She whispered, rescuing my poor, abused glasses. 

Fortunately, I slept through the next chain of events, but I could readily visualize them. General Hammond receives a kind of what-happened-overnight report on his desk first thing every morning and, unfortunately for me, it was a quiet night. As a result, I am numero uno on the hit parade. Which leads to a call to the infirmary. Which results in a call to Jack, far earlier than he needs to be in, since SG1 wasn’t scheduled to embark until the afternoon. A train that will, no doubt, be departing the station sans Daniel Jackson.

Fortunately, I also missed the naturally occurring next events, which included Jack racing to the base, tearing down to the infirmary and shouting at my unconscious head. Nancy told me later that Jack cussed me out very effectively, and I politely told him to shut the hell up; kind of sorry I missed that.

So when I finally returned to some semblance of consciousness, seven days and nights had elapsed. I was stunned when Nancy told me how long I’d been out of it. I really only remember bits and pieces, the heat seemed to be working overtime cause I do remember sweating quite a bit. As I tried to stay awake for more than five seconds, and it was hard, they were still putting knockout drops in my IV, my little spy gave me the lowdown on infirmary gossip.

SG14 had come in hot a couple of days after I entered the land of the zombies, and they had moved me to one of the isolation rooms, for fear I would infect them with my flu. Evidently, I had generously shared my illness with two nurses and several corpsman, since I had also generously shared the contents of my stomach on numerous occasions. I don’t remember that, and am eternally grateful for that. I’m a terrible patient, I whine and cry and bitch. A lot.

Jack had gotten into a shouting match with Janet about how I gotten the flu from Cassie. He was apparently under the mistaken impression that taking the flu shot actually prevented the flu. If I had been conscious, I could have given him the statistics of how the vaccine is not one hundred percent effective in preventing the flu, but I understand that Janet filled him in nicely. At the top of her lungs, evidently; good thing we were in the isolation room at the time, Nancy said you could hear them shouting out in the hallway.

Teal’c and Sam came by to see me several times, also. I’m happy to report that neither of them threatened to kill me, as I understand Jack did early one morning when my fever got pretty high.

Sam has this soft way of talking that’s very soothing when you’re sick. I should know, I’ve been on the receiving end of it more than either one of us care to mention; she makes a damn good doctor. Hey, she **is** a doctor! Made a joke there, I must be feeling better if my razor sharp wit is coming back.

And Teal’c has a beautiful voice, too, very soft when he wants it to be. That’s really surprising for a big guy and the ladies just eat it up, a fact that does not go unnoticed by my pal. I could hear him reading to me from one of my books and it made me think of my dad. He did that when I was sick, but instead of fairy tales and kid’s books, Dad was more likely to read from some archaeological journal. So when I heard Teal’c reading that kind of stuff, it took me back to happier times. Nancy said I actually called Teal’c ‘Dad’ a couple of times and caused the big guy to tear up. Wish I’d seen that, too; that would have been a first for me.

So now that I’m back in the land of the living, somewhat, I’m hoping to see a different set of walls than the observation room. Now that I know people are looking at me, it makes me uncomfortable. So I work on Nancy, knowing she’ll plead my case to Janet. 

And sure enough, Janet comes strolling in, just a few minutes later. With a smile, she hands me my glasses. And when I put them on, I realize I don't quite trust that crocodile smile. Wonder if I should try my smile on her?

"Don’t bother, Dr. Jackson." 

My face falls. _Oh, shit, this is very bad. I’ve been busted!_

So I pretend ignorance. "Janet?"

"You won’t get around me like you do my nurses."

Okay, I know some of the nurses, well, okay, most of the nurses, are kind of sweet on me. And I’d be a fool if I didn’t use it for all it’s worth. But I harbor no such delusion about Janet; I know she likes me well enough, but I also know she can read me like one of Teal’c’s tabloids.

So I try a little honesty. "Janet, I’m just so tired of looking at these walls. And being by myself so much." I keep the lonely card for true emergencies. It really works best on my friends; Jack especially is a sucker for it.

I figure if Janet hadn’t been worked to death by me and all her other patients or if she hadn’t been harboring some guilt over the method of my contagion, it wouldn’t have worked on her. But, surprise again, she caved. "I can’t let you go home, you don’t need to be by yourself. But I will move you to one of the VIP rooms. You still have to keep your IV for a couple of days," I started to protest, but she held up her hand, "No arguments, Daniel, you’re still dehydrated. But you can take a shower and your friends can come and see you." Her eyebrow quirked upwards; I swear, she’s been taking Teal’c lessons. "Deal?"

I nodded, trying not to look triumphant. "Deal." I shook her hand.

She turned back at the door. "And, Daniel? We’re still going to have a very long talk about the way you take care of yourself."

_  
_

Oh, shit again.

I must say, there is something therapeutic in taking a shower. Okay, I still had the IV shunt in my hand, and Teal’c and a nurse were standing outside the door, ready to catch my ass if I fell. But it was great, although I don’t remember it being quite this time consuming or exhausting. I actually thought about calling for the big guy, but talked myself out of it. I dried and dressed slowly, still in those oh-so-attractive scrubs. I managed to shave, even though I had to sit on the toilet to do so; God bless, Mr. Norelco and his electric shavers.

I let Teal’c lead me back to bed. Not that I need the help, I don’t, but I want him to feel useful. And the hovering nurse slipped my IV back in, chattered something about how I looked so much better, and, with Teal’c’s help, popped me back into bed before retreating, no doubt to file a report with the head medical honcho. 

And I hated to admit that it felt pretty good being vertical again. This horizontal stuff was evidently going to take longer than I had envisioned.

"So, Teal’c, how’s it going?" I slipped my glasses on. You can never tell with Teal’c, not smiling is not always a bad sign.

"Daniel Jackson, Dr. Fraiser has asked that I monitor both your eating and sleeping habits for the next forty-eight hours."

Okay, this is not good, I can get around Sam or Jack, or most of the nurses. But Teal’c? He’s like a very big dog with his very own bone.

I try to play it cool. "So, how are you going to do that?"

"I will be staying here in the suite with you. I have been excused from my other duties in order to perform this one."  
Night and day? So how am I going to sneak a cup of coffee, work on some translations, catch up on my reading? 

Teal’c gave me a surprisingly sly smile and picked up a piece of paper. "Dr. Fraiser had provided me with a list of instructions." He began to read. "The patient," I cringe, this is so not good, "will not leave the suite. He is allowed one shower per day, closely supervised." I cringe again. "He may not consume caffeine of any variety, especially coffee," he looked up, completely unmoved by the total look of horror that is plastered across my face. "This phrase has been underlined many times, I believe it is for extra emphasis." He continued. "He must consume three solid meals per day, all of which will include juice and milk, and his tray must be returned empty," he quirked his brow. "This also I will monitor so it would be unwise to attempt to fool me on this or any other matter. Patient will not be allowed to work, in any capacity, this also is underlined. That includes reading, translations, and books of any variety. Absolutely no television viewing or computer work; anyone bringing a laptop into this room will be reported immediately. Visitors will be screened and limited."

Teal’c rose and tacked his hit list to the bulletin board. As if there were any danger of him forgetting a single word on it, I was sure he had memorized it by now.

I rolled over and peered at him. "You know, you’re gonna get very bored watching me do nothing for two whole days." I don’t even try anything with Teal’c; he is the only person with whom I have a one hundred percent failure rate. I’ve even had limited success with General Hammond and, even more surprising, Sel’mac.

"I have been bored in the past. I do not believe it has damaged me in any way."  
I blinked at him. "Did you just make a joke?"

He nodded. "I believe I did, Daniel Jackson."

I blinked again; wondering if the nurse had slipped something besides fluid into that IV. I strained to look at the bag, like it was going to tell me something. The always observant Teal’c noticed my eyes glazing over and gently removed my glasses. "You know, Teal’c, I think I’ll just take a little nap here." I passed out. 

And when I woke, Jack and Sam were there playing cards with Teal’c, a usually fruitless endeavor; Teal’c always wins. I tried to raise up, but realized it wasn’t worth the effort. However, they had seem my sorry attempt and brought the mountain to Mohammed.

Sam sat on the edge of my bed, stroking my forehead. As well as making a good doctor, she’d make a damn fine mother, too. Still trying to see if I had a temperature. "How are you feeling?"  
"Oh, I’m fine. Better than fine, I’m great." I almost make myself believe it.  
"Really?" There was a world of disbelief in Jack’s voice so I slide my blurry, no glasses, vision in that direction. He bends over, and sticks his face in mine. "Is that why the sheets have more of a healthy glow than you do?" I admit I’m pale at the best of times; besides, I know what color I am, or am not, I actually shaved myself, remember?

"Okay, maybe not great, not yet, anyway, but I’m getting there."

Jack exploded. "Getting there? Getting where? You had a temperature of 104, you were out of your head for seven days. You’ve lost so much weight, we’re gonna have to pin you to the pillowcase. Scared us all to death, is what you’ve done."

"Sorry." I whisper, bracing for the next explosion. I must be getting better at this, cause Jack melts even before Sam does. She’s still stroking my forehead and chastising Jack for upsetting me.

He runs her up and takes her place on the bed. "I’m sorry, Daniel, I shouldn’t be shouting at you. You did the right thing, when you realized you were sick, you hauled yourself down here. But you still should have called me."

"Just trying to save you a trip." I vaguely remember thinking that ages ago, in my apartment. I raised up. "Have you been feeding my fish?"

Jack smiled. "Relax, we’ve all been on apartment duty. Your fish are not headed for malnutrition; we cleaned out your refrigerator, which leads us to believe, you might have been headed that way. So we’ll fill it up for you when Fraiser springs you from here. Any idea when that will be?"

"Dr. Fraiser has ordered me to monitor Daniel Jackson for at least forty-eight hours."

"Sweet!" Jack rose. "I don’t envy you, big guy, he’s a terrible patient."

"On the contrary, O’Neill, Daniel Jackson has been most cooperative."

Jack frowned at me. "Wonder why he’s such a pain in the ass when I try to take care of him."

I smiled at Jack. A real one, not the trying-to-get-around-you smile, but the real deal. "Cause."

Jack smiled back. Not a huge one, but that crafty, little grin. He sometimes likes to remind me I’m not the only player here.

"So, wanna play some poker?"

**The End**

  


* * *

> © February 2005 The characters mentioned in this   
>  story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp. The Stargate, SG-I,   
>  the Goa'uld and all other characters who have appeared in the series STARGATE   
>  SG-1 together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright   
>  property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright   
>  Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This   
>  fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant   
>  for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself   
>  are the sole property of the author. 

* * *

  


_http://www.stargatefan.com_


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